


First Comes Marriage...

by killingsaray



Series: Sittin' In A Tree [1]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frank Is An Immigration Agent, Hilarity Ensues, NSFW, The Proposal (Sorta), fake fiancé au, utter fucking FILTH
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: '"So," Hugo asked, grinning as wide as the Cheshire cat, "how's the sex?""I have had better." Villanelle responded with a shrug as she stared Eve down."Baby, you've never had it as good as me." Eve replied, grip on the crystal tumbler tightening."We will see."Fuck, she hadn't meant that the way it came out. Or had she?'ORThe Proposal AU where Villanelle's visa expired and Eve needs her to stay.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: Sittin' In A Tree [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705648
Comments: 56
Kudos: 513





	1. Late

**Author's Note:**

> this work HEAVILY relies on The Proposal (with a spin), while also maintaining the integrity of Killing Eve characters and their personalities.

* * *

_ “All love stories are tales of beginnings. When we talk about falling in love, we go to the beginning, to pinpoint the moment of freefall.” _

_ -Meghan O’Rourke _

* * *

It really wasn’t Villanelle’s fault. 

Last night,  _ fucking _ Hugo had thrown down the gauntlet and she would be  _ damned _ if she lost a drinking game to his preppy ass.

That was why she was late.

Well, that coupled with the fact that her phone was dead, and therefore unable to produce it’s scheduled morning beeping. 

Thankful for her body’s natural alarm and a subconscious suspicion that she was getting too much sleep, Villanelle scrambled out of bed in her central London loft twenty minutes later than normal. She cursed the godforsaken device on her bedside table, plugged it in for a quick charge and hurried to the bathroom. 

Following a rushed ten minute shower that included a full body wash and a simultaneous brush of her teeth, Villanelle parted her unwashed hair on the left, slicked it back with a soft pomade and tied it in a ponytail at the base of her neck. In quick succession, she pulled on a black tailored suit and white button-up. After draping an untied tie around her neck and dark sunnies over her eyes, she was out the door.

Somehow, Villanelle managed to make her way across town in under twenty minutes, stopping at Costa Coffee to grab the online order she’d placed on the tube with enough time to spare for a quick, flirtatious chat with the pretty girl behind the counter — _ Naomi? Norah? Nadia! _ — before zooming off to the office.

At exactly 7:50, Villanelle used her body weight to push her way through the gold and glass revolving doors of building 312 in the business district. Through the crowded lobby and into the elevators. She swiped her keycard and hit the button for floor 28 and in an instant, she was soaring upwards. In forty seconds, the doors opened to Eden Associates.

With its floor to ceiling windows and open concept beehive of cubicles, Eden Associates was a management consulting firm started by Eve Polastri nearly ten years ago. Organizations around the world sought out the services and sage advice of Eve and her group of business experts. She could cut costs without cutting jobs, partner two companies with opposing viewpoints while keeping the integrity of both companies, and she could turn a failing business into a thriving one in six months flat. 

Villanelle has finished business school three months prior to joining Eden Associates. She’d been scrambling to find a company to take her on as an intern, an assistant,  _ hell _ she would’ve taken a position as a mailroom clerk.  _ Anything _ to appease the requirements set forth by her Immigration. She was three months shy of being kicked out of England when Eve hired her, practically on the spot, turning her student visa into a work visa. 

That had been 3 years ago.

“You’re late, babe.” Hugo quipped and Villanelle flipped him off with her free hand as she strutted past his cubicle and into her boss’s office to complete her morning routine.

_ Open the blinds, Eve likes the natural light. _

_ Turn on the morning news, Eve enjoys the background noise as she works.  _

_ Tidy up her desk, Eve needs a clear space to start her day. _

_ Eve. Eve. Eve.  _ The older woman consumed her every waking thought and had even managed to sneak into a few not totally unwarranted dreams.

Villanelle placed their coffees on the desk and plopped down into the rolling chair behind it. She exhaled with relief that she’d made it with five minutes to spare.

“You’re late, babe.” She mocked Hugo.

She did not need a fucking reminder. 

If it was one thing that Eve had stressed upon hiring Villanelle, it was that she neither accepted nor excused lateness or absences. 

_ “If I’m working, you’re working. Nights, weekends, holidays, doesn’t matter.” _

Back then, Villanelle had been a promising little thing, hoping to go from intern to executive assistant to— well she hadn’t exactly known where she wanted to go after that. She hadn’t had the time to give it much thought because being Eve’s assistant was a lifestyle in itself. She worked long days and nights, sometimes staying past midnight to help Eve with, well… with anything she needed. Over the years, Villanelle developed the uncanny ability to read Eve’s mind which came in handy quite often. Especially when Eve was off on a tirade about her employees’ inability to do their job properly. 

In front of them. 

Usually, Villanelle would just shove an unwrapped cereal bar into her boss’s hand.  _ ‘You need to eat something. You are just hangry. Then, you go and apologize to everyone.’ _

_ ‘No.’ Eve would argue and bite into it.  _

_ ‘Yes.’ _

_ ‘No.’ _

_ ‘Yes.’ And Villanelle could usually see the moment Eve’s ‘hanger’ began to dissipate. _

_ ‘Fine.’ _

Though to be fair, Eve Polastri was more bark than bite and everyone knew it. She was a fair and generous boss. Not only had Eve taken on the role of Villanelle’s UK immigration sponsor, but the job also came with quarterly and holiday bonuses that were beyond substantial, and the corporate retreats were like mini-vacations for everyone. And Eve really only bothered Villanelle during the weekends if she felt it was an emergency. 

Though come to think of it, most weekends, Eve deemed some non-essential crisis as an emergency. 

_ ‘How do I work the espresso machine in the break room?’ _

_ ‘Where’s the remote for the automatic blinds in my office?’ _

_ ‘No, wait, I found it.’ _

_ ‘Never mind, that was the automatic door closer.’ _

Villanelle rolled her eyes and gave a soft chuckle. Eve, it seemed, was helpless without her. She wouldn’t know the difference between her head and her ass if it weren’t for Villanelle. 

At least, that’s what the young blonde hoped. She also hoped Eve walked in this morning in a good mood… because Villanelle had a  _ huge _ favor to ask of her. 

As Villanelle sipped from her own coffee, her iPad buzzed with the first reminder of many. She sat her coffee back down, quieted the screen and then began to bring her tie together. But during the last loop of her Windsor knot, the wider end of the tie knocked against Villanelle’s to-go cup and toppled toward her lap. Quick reflexes saved her pants from being damaged but her white button-up began to turn an ugly shade of tan as the liquid seeped through. 

“Shit!” She did  _ not _ need this today.  _ Where the fuck was she going to find a new shirt? _ Most of the clothing shops nearby were still closed and Eve would be there in—she checked her iPad’s clock—3 minutes. 

“I heard cursing. Everything—oh shit.” Hugo said and shut the frosted glass door behind him.

“You!” She pointed at him. 

“What? I didn’t—.”

“Give me your shirt.”

“What?!” Hugo looked down at his black, Burberry button-down. With the sleeves cuffed, the iconic Burberry print was visible as well as just under the collar. “No!”

“You owe me! I would not be late in the first place if not for your silly drinking game last night!” She stage-whispered. Hugo looked affronted and then amused. “Plus, today is the day I am going to ask Eve about becoming a consultant! She cannot see me looking like this.

Hugo took in his friend’s knitted brows and desperate tone. He stamped his foot once, huffing as he started to unbutton the shirt. “Fine, but we’re even after this!”

“Fine!”

They swapped shirts, quickly, Hugo disgusted at the now-cold, wet feel of the soiled shirt against him.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Villanelle smirked as she straightened out the collar and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re going to a lesbian funeral.”

Black on black hadn’t been in her plan today, but it would do. “Bite me.” 

Hugo made a biting gesture with his teeth. He crossed the room to Eve’s rolling spirits cart, which was really just for show, and pulled a few paper napkins off of it and handed them to Villanelle. “Clean up on aisle bitch.”

“Eve is not a bitch. She is just a strong, independent woman.” She snatched the napkins from him and hurried to the desk, sitting to wipe up the small mess she made. 

“Whatever you say.” Hugo opened the door to make his exit but was stopped by a gust of wind pushing him back. 

“Get out of my chair.” Eve huffed, breezing into the room and toward her desk. Villanelle jumped to attention, standing from the desk, iPad in hand, ready to rattle off the day’s to-do list. Hugo shot her a quick sympathetic look and took his leave.

“Good morning, Eve,” Villanelle said, trading her seat in the rolling chair for a gentle perch atop Eve’s desk. She watched the brunette drop into her seat and reach for her coffee. “Nadia would like you to ‘call her when you’re ready for something stronger’.”

“Wh—?”

Eve held up the coffee cup and turned it where Nadia had written her number followed by what Villanelle assumed was an offer to get drinks.

Villanelle scoffed and pulled the cup from her hands, setting it aside before handing Eve the correct cup. She started with the list on her illuminated screen, missing the look of pure amusement flash across Eve’s features. “You have a call with the board of advisors at 9. Most likely the usual topics will be discussed: sexual harassment seminar schedule, thanks to Hugo, and possibly quarterly objectives.” Villanelle looked down at Eve to make sure she was listening. The brunette was scrolling through emails on her phone, glasses sliding down her nose, and nodding along. Villanelle pushed her glasses further up onto her face, making a note to have them tightened in the near future. “That will be followed by a meeting with the chief financial officer of Peel Enterprises, the tech company we just signed on for after work.”

Eve groaned. “Why did we want his company’s after work anyway? Aaron Peel is a scumbag.”

“I believe your exact words were ‘there is only one way to deal with a bully, hit him where it hurts’.”

“I should have just kicked him in the balls and called it a day.”

Villanelle grinned. “Or whacked him across the face with a ‘Manners for Dummies’ book. Just to see if anything sticks.”

After work was really what consultants strived for. If they did their jobs extremely well, an outside company would begin to believe that they would fail without the help of a consulting firm. And so, they would continue to hire the firm for every little thing. It was truly diabolical work, but as far as Villanelle was concerned, it was no different than how most people lived their lives. It was why people dated and got married: security. Not that she understood it, because she was secure enough. She made a killing and had her pick of whatever woman she wanted. 

_ No _ , Villanelle thought,  _ marriage is not for me _ .

“You have a free 11 o’clock slot, so I was hoping that maybe I could fill it.”

Villanelle grinned at her own personal joke, but it fell the moment Eve’s gaze lifted from her phone to her assistant. Her brows rose in question but she said nothing. Instead, Eve cleared her throat and retrieved her phone from her desk. “Pencil yourself in for 11.”

Hope blossomed in Villanelle’s chest and she hopped off of Eve’s desk, barely containing a smile.

“Okay.”


	2. Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just ignore the creative licenses I've taken with immigration laws, nnk?

With a spine that seemed permanently ramrod straight, hands steepled together and an ungodly ability to give Villanelle a fashion orgasm, Carolyn Martens announced, “We have a problem.”

“Oh, good morning to you, Carolyn. How’s the family?”

The meeting, held via video conference on an enormous flatscreen mounted onto a built-in enclave in the conference room wall, had barely begun before Carolyn dropped that lovely announcement. 

“Sorry, Eve, but this is time-sensitive and can honestly make or break the next deal you have lined up.”

“What are you talking about?” Eve asked, sitting in the lip of the conference table and sipping from her coffee. 

“Your upcoming engagement with Carla de Mann’s company is on the line. She is a straight shooter whose company has gotten some bad press recently.” Carolyn explained. 

“Oh, right. The allegations of the warehouses where her perfumes are bottled being run like a sweatshop.” Eve acknowledged. 

“Precisely. As you can imagine, a company whose own employees are not living up to the government’s requirements will be most unwelcome.”

“Carolyn, I’m not understanding. My company is run completely according to the government’s requirements.”

“Yes, well, I wish that were the truth. Unfortunately,” Carolyn shifted some papers in front of her and picked up one, “it has come to my attention that your sponsorship for a one Miss Villanelle Astankova has expired and was not promptly renewed. Therefore, Miss Astankova is now in British soil illegally.”

The world suddenly began to move in slow motion for Villanelle and she could only hear a ringing noise in her ears. She could see Carolyn’s lips moving, but the words had been silenced. 

_ She was here illegally? How could this have happened? _ She tried to count the months, the years, but she was not thinking straight. 

“...only options are to meet with an immigration case agent and beg for the mercy of a renewal extension or terminate Miss Astankova’s position at Eden Associates.”

Villanelle looked at Eve whose expression didn’t exactly inspire confidence in the young woman. 

“We were never given any warning.”

“Apparently, with the government’s new ecologically friendly laws in place, they’ve forgone paper mail, and everything was sent to the emails on file with Immigration.”

Eve scoffed and shook her head. Villanelle usually checked the emails, and she had seen nothing of the sort. She was certain that if she’d come across an email about her own immigration status, it would have been marked ‘urgent’ and handled immediately.

“I can make some calls and arrange for a friend of mine in the Visa and Immigration office to pencil you in for an interview in a couple of days.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Carolyn sighed. “Very well. We will need your decision by Wednesday.”

When the meeting had ended and the TV had been turned off, Eve picked up her phone and started out of the room, leaving Villanelle to scurry behind her. For someone who, on a  _ good _ day, was two inches shorter than Villanelle, her little legs carried her quickly down the hall and towards the elevators.

“This is ridiculous,” Eve said, scrolling through emails on her phone. “You know how I feel about leaving these things until the last minute.”

“Yes, well, it is not really my fault.” Villanelle griped, her hand tapping furiously over the screen of the iPad to see if she could find the email that they’d missed. They stepped inside the elevator together and Eve pressed the illuminated button for the lobby.

“Who doesn’t send paper notifications anymore?”

“A country that is trying to ‘go green’ apparently,” Villanelle replied, both annoyed with Eve and England. “Found it!”

“Where?” Eve peered down at the iPad. 

“It went to the spam folder.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Eve replied. “Who checks their spam folder?”

“Exactly!”

Eve pulled her glasses off the top of her head and slipped them on her face. Villanelle watched as her curly hair fell forward and her lips moved silently as she read the email. She used a finger to bring up the remainder of the email before nodding once. “Okay, so, fine.” 

“‘Okay, so, fine’, what?” Villanelle asked. 

“So, we’ll fix it.” She was already typing a number into her phone before Villanelle could protest. 

“How? We already missed the meeting and—.” She was cut off by Eve’s ‘please, hold’ finger in her face. 

“Hi, Audrey, this is Eve Polastri for Konstantin Vasiliev. I understand, can you tell him it’s an emergency. I’ll hold.”

* * *

The love-hate relationship between Konstantin Vasiliev and Eve Polastri had always amused Villanelle. Mostly because she was well aware of how much of a little shit he could be. He had been like that her whole life. 

“Uncle Konstantin, good to see you.” The blonde patted his protruding stomach affectionately. “You did not tell me you were expecting.”

Konstantin laughed and put both hands on her cheeks, squishing them together as if she were the cutest, chubbiest baby he’d ever seen. She pushed his hands away and readjusted her suit jacket. 

“Stop that.”

“Eve, always a pleasure.”

“You don’t mean that.” Eve grinned and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry if we pulled you away from anything, but trust me, this is more important.”

Konstantin held open the door to the Immigration office for the two women. “This place is not good for my heart.”

“Villanelle’s visa expired and my sponsorship over her has lapsed as well.”

Konstantin’s expression remained calm, but internally he was worried. He was not an immigration lawyer after all. He dealt with small debts and business contracts, which was how he and Eve met long ago. Konstantin had been the one to encourage Villanelle to apply for Eve’s company.

“Good morning. How may I help you?” The friendly receptionist greeted them.

“We’re here to see an immigration agent about Villanelle Astankova,” Eve told her. 

“Excellent. Who is your case agent?”

“We don’t have one. That’s why we’re here.” Villanelle replied. 

“Have you received any emails? Your case agent’s name will be at the bottom.”

Eve’s patience was wearing thin as she pulled up the only email. “Frank Haleton?”

“Oh.” The receptionist’s seemed to hear the morbidity in her own tone, so she perked right back up. “Oh! Great, let’s just see his schedule for the day.” 

Villanelle and Eve exchanged a look. 

“Well, it looks like he has a free spot open at 11.”

“We’ll take it.”

An hour and a half. That was how long the three of them sat in the waiting room in hopes of speaking with this Frank Haleton. In the meantime, Villanelle rearranged Eve’s schedules, making necessary calls to the office. Finally, the receptionist called Villanelle’s name, and the three of them were led through a series of corridors until they reached an office at the end of the hall. The receptionist knocked and a curt “enter” came from behind the closed door. 

“Agent Haleton, your 11 o’clock walk-in, Ms. Eve Polastri, Miss Villanelle Astankova, and Mr. Konstantin Vasiliev.”

As she introduced them, Frank shook each of their hands. He dismissed her with a nod and the door was shut behind them. 

“So, how can I help you?”

Eve went through the basics of how they wound up at his office for this impromptu meeting. She explained that Villanelle was an invaluable asset to her company and that this was all just a  _ tiny _ mistake that would  _ never _ happen again.

“I see.” Somewhere between her explanation and conclusion, Frank had opened up the file he had on Villanelle and scrolled through it. “Well, as far as I can tell, you seem to have made a very nice life for yourself here. I think your renewal should have no problem going through. So, while your status is being reviewed, you will return to Russia and I’m sure within a few weeks’ time, you’ll be able to return to London.”

“A few weeks?” Villanelle asked in disbelief. 

“Yes. Two months tops if the case system isn’t back up as it usually is.”

“I’m sure we can work something out where you can work remotely—.”

“Oh, I’m afraid not. Legally, Miss Astankova cannot work for an English company while she is up for review.”

Well, talk about kicking a girl when she was down. This was too much bad news in such a short amount of time. But then Villanelle saw it. The moment a lightbulb clicked on in Eve’s mind.

“Oh, honey, but what about the wedding?”

“Wedding?” Frank, Villanelle, and Konstantin asked in different versions of confusion.

“Yes,” Eve turned to Frank, brown eyes suddenly big and watery. “How are we supposed to tell our family and friends that we can’t get married this weekend like we planned because of some silly piece of paper?”

Villanelle’s lips parted and Eve looked at her. This was an opportunity. She would be lying to a federal employee and could probably go to jail for years if they were caught. But god, she loved her life here. She loved her small group of friends, her luxury flat, her job working for Eve. 

Eve, who was giving her a choice here. So she made a decision. 

“Well, I  _ guess _ we can postpone it, although, I don’t know when we’ll be able to book our venue again. It was pure luck they had an opening when they did.” Villanelle sighed, defeatedly. Konstantin could not believe his ears. 

And apparently, neither could Frank. 

“Sorry, are you saying that you two are engaged?”

“Yes,” Eve replied, coolly. “Surely, there is some way we can keep my fiancé here until Saturday. We will fill out whatever paperwork that needs to be filed, but please, Agent Haleton, don’t ruin our wedding.” She took Villanelle’s hand in both of her own, holding it endearingly to her chest. To add a cherry on top of that little performance, Villanelle reached over and put her own hand atop Eve’s and they both looked at him with their best puppy dog eyes.

Frank blinked back at them. Konstantin cleared his throat. 

“As you can see, Mr. Haleton, my clients are very much in love and would just like to live a normal life here in this beautiful country.”

The immigration agent looked between the three of them. “Very well, I will get together a packet of paperwork that you will need to fill out and file within the next twenty-four hours. If you will wait in the lobby, I will have the receptionist bring them out to you.”

“Thank you, sir!” Eve replied, dropping Villanelle’s hands and standing from her chair. She reached over his desk, shaking his hand frantically. “You have no idea what this means to me.” She gave Villanelle a pointed look and the young blonde stood as well, shaking his hand. 

“We really are so appreciative. Thank you, Agent Haleton.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

And just as they thought they were home free, heading out of his office, Agent Haleton cleared his throat and called out to Villanelle and Eve.

“One question.”

They looked at him, waiting. 

“You two wouldn’t happen to be attempting to commit marital fraud to keep Miss Astankova here in the United Kingdom?”

Villanelle swallowed past the lump in her throat and shook her head. “No, sir.”

“Please know, I am obligated to complete an investigation leading up to your… wedding. A very thorough data dump on both of you. Nothing will be hidden.”

Villanelle looked at Eve who simply smiled back at him. “We wouldn’t expect anything less from a stellar agent such as yourself. Enjoy your day, Agent Haleton.”

* * *

Back at the office, Eve and Villanelle locked themselves in Eve’s office.

“So, we should come up with a list for the wedding.“

Villanelle had yet to stop staring at Eve, her mouth agape. “List?”

“Yes. Who should be at our pending nuptials?”

“How can you joke about this, Eve?”

Eve looked up from her computer. “Who’s joking?” 

“You realize this is madness.”

“And letting you be deported back to Russia isn’t?”

“I am just looking out for  _ you _ , Eve,” Villanelle admitted, rubbing her fingers against her temples. “If anyone finds out, your reputation is at stake. We could both go to jail!”

“Let me worry about my own reputation. And as for jail, neither of us will be going as long as we stick to the plan. We’ll be married on Saturday and in a year, we’ll have it annulled. Now,” Eve leaned back in her chair, and smirked, “are we inviting Nadia?”

Villanelle rolled her eyes. “Wh—? Nadia?”

This was not the conversation she had expected to have after lying to a government official. Hell, she hadn’t ever planned on lying to a government official, but here they were!

“Yes, Nadia. Your barista babe. The coffee cutie.”

Despite the circumstances, Villanelle chuckled. “I mean, she  _ is _ cute, but I do not—.”

“Have time for a pretty distraction,” Eve finished for her in a Russian imitation that was subpar, at best. It was the same excuse she’d been using for years but honestly, Villanelle wasn’t looking for someone her age. She needed someone older, more mature, with a slightly pessimistic view of humans that matched Villanelle’s. And sweet, mousy Nadia from Costa Coffee was just not that.

“Yes, well, it does not matter anyway, because I am quite literally married to my work these days.”

Eve laughed. “I do keep you busy, don’t I,  _ my love _ ?”

Villanelle groaned. This was going to be torture.

How Eve could remain so calm and actually  _ joke _ about this was beyond Villanelle, but if it was one thing she’d learned from Eve, it was how to play it cool. Eve’s first rule of business management had always been:

“Deception, if done for the right reasons, can be forgiven.” It was all about the bigger picture. 

And if Eve wasn’t worried, then maybe there really wasn’t anything to fret over. 

Or so she hoped.

* * *

_ Aces & Eights Saloon Bar, 10:50 PM _

“You what?!” Hugo cried, the shot of top-shelf vodka sloshing over the tiny glass and onto the wooden pub table. 

“I’m marrying Eve,” Villanelle replied, still in disbelief herself. She took the shot from his hand and knocked it back, hoping to swallow her nerves along with it. No such luck.

A look of pure delight crossed his face. “I knew it. All of those late nights. The door always closed.”

Villanelle rolled her eyes. Nothing had ever happened between her and Eve, though she couldn’t very well tell Hugo as much. If this was going to work, she would have to play along. Plus, Agent Haleton’s underlying threats and an extensive google search on marital fraud (on Hugo’s phone, of course) had made her fate crystal clear if she was to divulge anything to anyone.

“Okay, start from the beginning. When did it switch from professional to personal?”

Villanelle rolled her eyes and poured them both another shot from the bottle on their table. 

“I do not know, Hugo. It just…  _ happened _ .”

Thankfully, then a waitress sat a drink on their table in front of Hugo. “From the hot guy at the bar.” 

Villanelle grinned as she watched Hugo raise the drink in acknowledgment. “He is cute. You should go and talk to him.”

“What? I can’t leave you here. We have to celebrate your engagement! Ooo, I’m going to throw you a party!”

“Fine, but only if you go talk to him.”

“You’ll be alright?”

“Yes. I have to get home soon anyway.”

“Ah, the old ball and chain clocking your drinking hours?”

“Something like that.” Villanelle tried to smile, but she felt bad for lying to her best friend. Although, he was already three sheets to the wind and would probably not remember any of this conversation anyway.

“See you in the morning?” He asked, getting up and taking the drink. Villanelle nodded. 

When he was gone, Villanelle sighed. She was frustrated and anxious, two emotions that Villanelle did not deal with very well. The alcohol, while inebriating her, wasn’t helping with her existential crisis. What she really needed was—.

Turning her head, she found herself looking at an older woman with dark unruly curls drinking by herself at the bar. Despite being alone, there was something about the way she sat, spine straight, legs crossed, that told Villanelle that she was confident in being alone. She reminded Villanelle of someone, but she couldn’t put her finger on who.

It wasn’t until she was home, in her flat, with the woman’s head between her thighs, that she realized who she had been reminded of. 

And as she closed her eyes, fisted her hands into dark hair and the first wave of her orgasm washed over, Villanelle cried out:

“ _ Eve _ !”


	3. List

Rejuvenated from her sex with whats-her-name, that Villanelle had explained as ’just a little biblical fantasy thing’, she felt a little more prepared for what was to come. Although, way less prepared to see Eve. After all, she  _ had _ gotten off to a fantasy of her boss with a certified Eve doppelgänger.  _ What the hell was that supposed to mean? _

She didn’t have time to unpack what she was sure was better left in the hands of a professional. But she didn’t have time for that either. 

No, now all she had time for was balancing her ringing phone against her ear as she hopped around her flat trying to shove her foot into a cut-out Doc Marten boot. 

“What?” She snapped into the phone. 

“That’s no way to speak to your fiancé.” Eve’s voice filtered through. And did Villanelle imagine it or was there a flirtatious purr to her normal? 

“Sorry. What do you need?” She finally got her shoe on and snatched her keys from the floor where they’d fallen when she and Eve 2.0 had stumbled towards Villanelle’s bed.

“For you to open your front door.”

Villanelle froze and she slowly pivoted to stare at her front door. 

“I know you’re home. I just heard your keys jingle.”

_ Oh, for fuck’s sake.  _ Villanelle crossed the expanse of her flat and flat and jogged down the three steps to her front door, opening it to find Eve standing there. In unison, they pulled their phones from their ears. 

“What are you doing here?” Villanelle asked. 

“Wedding planning. Also,” Eve slipped past Villanelle into the sunlit flat, “if Agent Haleton is going to be looking into us, I brought a few things to throw around your place so it looks like I spend time here.”

Villanelle groaned because she really did want clutter around her place. Everything was placed strategically, courtesy of the hours of HGtv she’d watched and her own natural decorating abilities. And now Eve was going to come in and just—.

“ _ This _ is your place?” Eve looked around, clearly impressed, which Villanelle found just a bit insulting. 

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Something—,” Eve turned around, her eyes running up the walls to the light fixtures on the ceiling and then back down to the all-white furniture until she was once again looking at Villanelle, “different.”

“What? A hostel?”

“No.” Eve smiled and sat her handbag down on the crumpled white duvet of Villanelle’s bed. “Expensive vintage furniture to match the clothes.”

_ Okay, well that was… nice of her. _

“I’m clearly paying you well,” Eve said, sitting down on the bed. 

Villanelle grinned and slipped her hands into the pockets of her pants. “A raise wouldn’t kill you.”

“You’re getting to marry this.” Eve gestured from her face down to her feet. “It’s all the raise you’ll ever need.”

“Mm.” Villanelle hummed, head tilting from side-to-side as if she were really thinking about it. “I don’t know about that. I feel like I am getting the short end of the stick.”

“How’s that?”

“A sexless marriage? I—.” The muffled sound of a toilet flushing followed by Eve’s raised eyebrows brought Villanelle back to the present. 

_ Fuck _ . 

In her defense, Villanelle hadn’t invited Eve inside. She’s even stood at the door to block her path. But somehow, the brunette had pushed her way in and made herself completely at home in Villanelle’s flat. 

“Oh, you’re still here.” Not-Eve chirped, surprised but pleasantly so. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” She checked her watch and then shrugged. “Well, I suppose I can be a little bit later for work if you promise to do that thing with your tongue—.”

Eve who had been blocked from view by Villanelle’s body leaned to the side, poking her head around the blonde. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

“Sorry, this is Eve, my b—.”

“Fiancé.” Eve stood up and held her hand out for a shake.

Villanelle took in Eve’s body language: straightened spine, head high, left brow cocked. 

_ Did she just pee on Villanelle a little to mark her territory? _

Not-Eve— _ god, What was her name? _ — shook Eve’s hand before registering her words. “Oh. Oh! God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was engaged! Really, I never would have—.” 

“It’s fine,” Eve said, waving a hand through the air. “We have a very open relationship. Honey, you didn’t tell me that—.”

“Ava,” the woman supplied. 

“Right. You didn’t tell me that Ava was spending the night.”

The smirk on Eve’s face told Villanelle just how much she was enjoying this. 

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Villanelle replied. Eve nodded in acknowledgment. Together, they looked at Ava, who seemed to get that they had much to talk about. 

“I’m going to go.”

“If you have to.” Eve shrugged, faux disappointment on her face. Villanelle scoffed and she took Eve’s hand. 

“We will make coffee while you finish dressing.” Villanelle dragged a chuckling Eve toward the kitchen. 

“Well, she was nice.” Eve quipped and made her way to French doors that opened out to a lush patio and garden. “This is a gorgeous view.”

“You do not mean that.” Villanelle busied herself making coffee. 

“No, really, any way you turn, your natural light exposure is perfect.”

“I meant about—.” The blonde waggled a hand in the general direction of her one nightstand. 

“Ava?” Eve grinned and turned to find Villanelle looking at her. “What’s that face?”

“This is ridiculous, Eve.” Villanelle turned in search of something.

“Not following.” And she realized that that wasn’t exactly true because she had quite literally followed Villanelle to the tea cupboard, watching as the blonde reached for a box of k-cups for the Keurig machine. She only noticed when Villanelle abruptly turned on her heels and nearly smashed into Eve.

“This whole fake fiancé thing. Lying to Immigration, to our friends and family.”

“It’s only for a year,” Eve reminded her. “Six months into the marriage, you can apply for permanent residence and take your citizenship test.”

“And the other six months?” Villanelle wondered. 

“Well, it’ll be too suspicious if we divorce the moment you get your citizenship, so we’ll have to wait it out.”

Villanelle groaned. 

“Would you rather go back to Russia?”

Villanelle would rather die. “No!” She practically whined. 

“Then you’re stuck with me. Unless you have a better idea.”

Villanelle slammed a mug of hot coffee in front of Eve in response. Eve smiled. 

“Now, please tell your mistress to leave. We have a lot of details to go over for the wedding.”

“Yes,  _ dear _ .” 

* * *

Eve had made quick work of phoning them both out of work, giving Hugo full managerial duties. Villanelle was sure he was somewhere in the office, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and forcing some poor intern to fetch his morning tea. 

By lunchtime, they’d decided on Indian carryout and a venue for their sham of a wedding. With Eve’s sales pitch and mention of her black American Express card, the manager of the establishment was practically tripping over himself to accommodate their last-minute nuptials. 

They argued over attire, the guest list and whether or not to send invitations, neither subject coming to any resolution before Eve mentioned bridal showers. 

“No. No showers. Hugo wants to throw us an engagement party, though,” Villanelle mentioned.

“Well, seeing as how the wedding is in five days, he’d be better off throwing us a rehearsal dinner,” Eve said, distractedly. She was sat at the kitchen table, fingers tapping away at the keyboard of her MacBook. Her glasses slipped further and further down her nose the more she turned to read the notes beside her. 

“I will tell him.”

“How soon can your family get here?”

“I do not know.” Villanelle shrugged. “I have not told them yet.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” The silence from Villanelle’s end caused Eve to stop typing and look up and over the rim of her glasses. “Villanelle?”

“Do my parents really need to be there? We have enough witnesses as it is.”

“Why wouldn’t you want your parents there?”

“I just don’t.” Villanelle said, taking hold of her coffee mug and standing up. She turned away from Eve to collect herself and make herself a cup of tea. 

“Why?” Eve pushed. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

“No! I just—.” Villanelle turned to find Eve grinning cheekily, chin resting in her palm. The blonde realized too late that Eve had tried and succeeded in riling her up. 

“Cute,” she huffed and turned to fill the tea kettle with water.

“Fine. I won’t pry, but I think you should know that this is a terrible way to start off this marriage.”

“Oh, our  _ illegal _ ,  _ fake _ marriage?” Villanelle sassed back. “Yes, I am sure you are gutted.”

“Don’t be a brat. I was only teasing.” Eve said. 

“I know.” 

She did. She knew. But this was Eve, her boss, in her home: the one place where she could be herself and not worry about offending anyone because she knew she always was (though, most times she delighted in it). It was where she could indulge in the ways she wanted: food, sex, wine, online shopping, movies. More importantly, it was where she came to relax and forget about the troubles in her world. 

Except, now here Eve was,  _ literally _ bringing the troubles to her doorstep. 

Villanelle sighed as the tea kettle started to boil. “What is next on the to-do list?”

Eve scanned the list beside her. There were plenty other things they could accomplish, but it was obvious the conversation about her family had left a bad taste in Villanelle’s mouth. 

“I should actually get going.” Eve said, closing her laptop. “But first,” she filled a few items out of her Birkin bag and stood from the dining table, “I have to make this place a little more Eve-friendly.”

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Villanelle groaned except this time, her eyes reached the ceiling and she gave a dramatic back bend. “Fine. If you must.”

Tea in hand, Villanelle followed Eve around the flat as she deposited items that actually looked like the belonged. A A ceramic mug with a large ‘E’ on it in the sink. Lipstick in Eve’s shade on the dresser coupled with her favorite perfume. A monogrammed toothbrush in the bathroom with two hand towels with an embroidered ‘V’ on one and an ‘E’ on the other. And finally an oversized t-shirt, a bra and two pairs of panties. 

Villanelle kept a stoic expression, but inside she was having a moment. “You really think Frank is going to search through my drawers.”

Eve shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Yes, Agent Hale, here are my fiancé’s unmentionables, anything else you need to see?” Villanelle mocked. 

“He would go into shock.” Eve joked. “He has a stick so far up his ass, he could probably stand to see a pair of panties or two.” 

She looked at Villanelle who glanced to her and moments later, snorts of laughter tumbled freely from both of them. Villanelle could feel the tension easing slowly out of her shoulders. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. If this was their present reality, Villanelle could roll with the punches. Besides, it was lovely to see the fun, teasing of Eve. 

As she walked the short, brunette to the front door, Villanelle had a thought. “So, does this mean I get to make your place more Villanelle-friendly?”

Eve opened the front door and pivoted to smile at Villanelle’s theatrical puppy-dog eyes. With a playful roll of her own eyes, Eve acquiesced, “Fine. If you must.”

Villanelle clasped her hands together. “I’ll be five minutes.” And with that, she disappeared from view.

“Wh—?  _ Now _ ?” Eve inquired, confused. 

“No better time like the present, Eve.” Villanelle called. Eve tapped her foot as she waited for the blonde to reappear. And when she did, there was a huge smile on her face and an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. 

“Why am I already regretting this?”

“You knew who I was when you proposed to me.” Villanelle replied, locking the door behind them. 

“I didn’t propose.” Eve deadpanned as they walked down the path to Eve’s car. 

“Yes, I have been meaning to bring that up.” Villanelle said. 

And finally, it was Eve’s turn to groan. 


End file.
